Rensselaer Union, Volume 10, Number 52, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 September 1878 — A WIFE’S CONFESSION. [ARTICLE]

A WIFE’S CONFESSION.

I did not marry for love. Very few people do, so in this respect I am neither better nor worse than my neighbors. No, I certainly did not marry for love; I believe I married Mr. Cartwright simply because he asked me. r This was how it happened. „ He was the Rector o 1 Doveton, and we lived at the Manor House, which was about ten minutes' walk from the church and rectory. We had daily service at Doveton, and I nearly always attended it, and it came to pass that Mr. Cartwright invariably walked home with me. It was a matter of custom now, and I thought nothing of it; it pleased him, and on the whole it was rather pleasant to me. I must confess, however, 1 was rather surprised when, one morning as we got to tne avenuo which led up to the Manor House, Mr. Cartwright asked mo to be his wife. I have never been able to find out why I said yes, but I did; perhaps I thought it a pity to throw away so much love; perhaps it was because he was so terribly in earnest that I dared not refuse him; perhaps I feared his pale face, and his low, pleading voice would over haunt me if I rejected his love; or, perhaps, it was because he only asked me to marry him—ho did not ask me if I loved him, for I think ho guessed 1 did not; perhaps it was all these reasons put together, but any how I said yes, and in due time wo were married. I ought to have been very happy, for he wa3 a most devoted husband, but I was not, and though I did not .notice it then, 1 know now that for the first six months after our marriage ho was not happy either. It was all my fault—l cither would j not or could not love him; I accepted all his devotion lo me as a matter of ! course, but I made no offort to return I it; and I am sure he had found out that he had made a mistake in marrying a woman who did not love him. One morning, about six months after our marriago, he told mo at breakfast that ho intended leaving me alone for a few weeks, to stay with his mother, who was not very well. He watched the effect of this announcement on me, but though I was really displeased, I boncealea my annoyance and asked 1 carelessly when he would start. Ho replied, the next day if I had no objection, and so it was settled. He was more affectionate than usual that tlay, and I was colder than ever; I only oneo alluded to his journey, and that was to ask if I might have my sister Maud to stay whilo he was gone. The next morning I was anxious to avoid a formal parting, so I drove to the station with him. As the train moved off, 1 remembered this was our first parting since our marriage, and I wished I had not been so cold. When I got homo the house looked so dreary and empty and there was no one to meet mo; presently one of the servants came for the shawls, and with her Nero, Mr. Cartwright’s retriever, which, when ho saw I was alone, sot up a howl for his master. I patted him and tried to comfort him,, feeling rebuked by his grief, as he followed me, winning, into the ’ house. Every room seemed empty, and each spoke of the absent master. At last I wandered into his study, whore he spent his mornings and liked me to sit and work; and now I remembered how often I had oxcuscd myself, saying I preferred the drawing-room, ana this reflection did not add to my happiness. Thero was a photograph of mo standing on his writing-table, and another on the chimney-piece; on tho walls hung two or three of my drawings, which lie had begged of me when we wore ongaged; indeed, tho room was full of little remembrances of me; 1 opened a book 1 had given him, and in it was his name in my handwriting, and underneath, in his own, "From my darling wife.” I laid it down with a sigh, as 1 thought how carefully he treasured ovorvtning 1 had ever given him and how little care I took of all his gifts tome. Everything 1 attempted, everything I looked at, reminded me of his goodness to mo and of my coldness ana ingratitude to him. At last I went to bed, where, alter working, myself Into a fever of anxiety lest he should not have reached tho end of his journey in safety, I at length cried myself to sleep. The next morning I wont down to breakfast with a heavy heart, for I knew I could not hear from him till the next day; it seemed so strange to breakfast alone, and Nero appeared to think so, too, for he was most unhappy, sniffing round his master’s chair in the most melancholy manner. My plate, for the first time since my marriage, was empty, as I sat down to breakfast, for my husband, who was an ejirly riser, always had a little bouquet me witn every morning; frequently I forgot all about it and Toft it to be put into water by the servant; this morning I would have treasured it most carefully if he had gathered it. After breftkfast 1 determined to rouse myself and go and visit some of the poor people In the village, so 1 tilled

my basket with some little delicacies for the sick and set out j!* Wherever I went it was the same story, all held forth on ray husband's gooanesa and kindness, for all had been helped by him in some way or other, and all loved and respected him. As I listened with burning cheeks I felt ns if I was tho only person on earth who had treated him with cruel ingratitude, and I was tho very person whom he moat loved and cherished. At lost I went home, tired and sick at iieart; but'there was no one to notieo I was pale and worn-out, no one to got me wino or soup to revive mo, no ono to make me lie down and rest, as he would have done had lie been there. Oh, how I missed him! What a fool I had been! Was thero evor woman loved and cared for as I had beenP Was there ever friend so ungratefulP Oh! why had I ever let him leave meP I was sure he would never come baok. Why had he gone awayP And conscience answered, “ You drove him; he gave you all ho had to give, and in return you gave him nothing but cold looks- and unkind words; and so he left you to seek love and sympathy from his mother.” This thought almost maddened me. In fancy I saw her sitting in my place by his side, loving and caressing him, as I had the best right to love and caress him. I pictured her receiving tenderly the little loving acts I had received so coldly, and now I was seized with a jealous anger against her. 1 mentally accused her of estranging my hushaha from me, and of trying to win his love from me, as though his heart was not large onough for both of us. When Maud arrived in the afternoon, I treated her to a long tirado of abuse against mothers-in-law in general, and my own in particular, ana I vented all the anger I really felt against rnyselfon the innocent Mrs. Cartwright. “ Why, Nelly,” said Maud, “ I thought you liked Mrs. Cartwright so much, and thought her so nice, that you oven wanted her to live with you, only your husband, very properly, as mamma says, objected.” “SoI did,” I answered; “but I did not know then she would ever entice my husband away from me in this way, or, of course, I should never have liked her.”

“ Really, Noll, you are very hard on the poor woman; for, as I understand, Mr. Cartwright went to her of his own freo will, because she was not well, and he thought his company would do her good,” said Maud. “ Nonsense; I am sure he would never have left me alone, unless she had put him up to it,” 1 replied, rather crossly. “ The truth is, Nelly, you are so much in love with your husband that you are jealous even of his mother; and you are making yourself miserable about nothing. Why, Mr. Cartwright will be back in a fortnight, and I dare say yon will get a letter from him every day; so cheer up, and let us go for a drive,” said Maud. 4. I agreed to this plan, and giving Maud the reins, 1 lay back and thought of her words. Was she right after all? Was I jealous? Was 1 really, as Maud said, in love with, my husband P Had I only found it out uow I was deprived of his company? Was this the reason that I could do nothing but inwardly reproach myself for my conduct to him? And the longer 1 thought, the more convinced 1 became that Maud was right, that I was jealous and that I was in love, as she called it. This knowledge did not make mb happier, for I no sooner knew I loved him than I longed to tell him so, and make up, as far as I could, for all my former cruelty, for I could call my conduct by no„'milder word. I passed a sleepless bight, and ns I lay awake I composed various letters of confession, which I resolved to send the following dav; but when morning came, my pride stepped in, and 1 began to feel it wrnild be impossible to write, and 1 settled I must wait till my husband came home ami then tell him how his absence had altered me. 1 got up early and walked out to meet the postman, so anxious was I to get a letter from him; it was the first I had evor received from him since our marriage, and no girl was ever so anxious for or so pleased with her first loveletter as I was over this.

It was a long letter, full of loving messages and terms of endearment, all of which cut me to the heart, for they sounded like so many reproaches; in reality, I think there was a tone of gentle reproach throughout the letter. Ho gave me an account of his journey and of his mother’s health, begged me to write to him a few lines ovory day, but he said not a word about returning. 1 spent tho morning in answering it, much to Maud’s amusement, w.ho, of course, thought I was pouring out volumes of love and complaints of my temporary widowhood; after tearing up about a dozen sheets of paper, 1 at last sent a short note, cool and with no allusions to my misery. The more I tried, the more impossible I found it to write any expression of love or penitence; though I was hungering to do so. For a whole week I went on in this way, suffering more acutely every day, and every day receiving long, loving letters from Mr. Cartwright, and writing short,, cold answers. I lost my appetite, I could not sleep at night, and the torture I was enduring made me look so ill that Maud became frightened,-And declared that she would writo and summon my husband home, and him 1 was pining away for him. I forbade her doing this so sternly that sho dared not disobey me, for 1 was determined that he should never hear from any lips but mine that at last his heart’s desire was attained, for I loved him. —— At last, when he had been away ten days, I could bear it no longer, for I felt I should have brain fever if I went on in this way, so I determined to go on to Melton, whore Mrs. Cartwrignt lived, and see my husband. I came to this decision one night, and went into Maud’s room early in the morning; to tell her my intention. 1 expected she would laugh at me, but I think she guessed something was wrong, for she seemed glad to hear it and helped me to pack a few things and set off in time to catch the morning train* '*lt was a three hours’ journey. They seemed three years to me, for Uie nearer I got to my husband tho more impatient I was to see him. At last we got to Melton, a largish town. Of course, as I whs not expected, these was no one to meet mo, so I took a fly to Mrs. Cartwright’s house, where I arrived ajiout three o’clock. I learned afterward that Andrew was with his mbther iri the drawing-room whep 1 drove up, but thinking 1 was only a-visitor, no escaped into another room, so I found my mother-in-law alone. -■»» By her aide was some of my husband’s socks which sfle was darning, seeks which I had handed over to the geryftnfc tp ipepd, and wipoji \ n<pjr

longed to snatch away from his mother. His dosk stood open, a letter to me which he was writing lying on it. The servant announced me as Mrs. Andrews, my voice faltering as 1 gave my name, so that Mrs. Cartwright bold up her hands in astonishment when s"ho saw who it was. “My dear! Nelly! Has anything happened? How ill you look! What is it?” she exclaimed. “I want my husband,” I gasped, sinking on to a chair, for I thought I should have fallen! Without another word Mrs. Cartwright left tho room; I feel sure now she guessed all about it, and I can never thank her enough for forbearing to worry mo with questions as to what 1 had come for. She came back in a few momonts with a glass of wine, which she made me drink off, saying she would send him to me at once if I took it. I complied, and she went for him; in another minute I heard his stop outside tho door, and then he came in. “ Nelly, my love—my darling! what is itP” he cried as I rusnod into nis outstretched arms, and hid tty face on his breast, sobbing bitterly. For some moments I could not epeak; at last I recovered myself enough to sob out: “Oh, Andrew, my love! my dear love! can yon ever forgive meP I came to ask yon, and to tell you I can’t live without you.” I would have said more, but his kisses stopped my mouth, and when at length he let me go there wore other tears upon my checks beside my own. That was the happiest hour of my life, in spite of my tears; and, before my motner-in-law rejoined us, which she discreetly avoided doing till dinnortime, I had poured out all 1 had to tell into mv husband’s ears; and 1 had learned from him that ho had left mo to try what effect his absence would have on me; for he had felt for some time that my pride was the great barrier he had to overcome to win my love, He had judged right. Ho was too generous to tell me how much he had suffered from my indifference, but I know it must have grieved him terribly. He is a different man now, ho looks so happy, and I know he would not change places with anyone on earth. We went back to the rectory next day, but we could not persuade Mrs. Cartwright to come with us; she said we were best alone, and I think she was right.— Cassell's Magazine.